There is no one at the door
by DetectiveSilence
Summary: One-shot. The Doctor pays Sherlock a social call, or so he claims, with Clara in tow. Sherlock and the Doctor are old friends, but Sherlock is acting a little strange...


**One-shot, featuring Sherlock, John, The Doctor, and Clara, who to be honest I don't particularly like. As you will see, Sherlock and the Doctor are old friends, but John hasn't met the Doctor yet. Don't ask me what I was thinking when I mentioned The Clash, just seemed like a good idea at the time. So yeah...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. I've 'borrowed' them and I will 'give them back' when I've finished, I 'promise'. Notice the flicky things. I also don't own The Clash, and I'm not part of it either, so... well...**

**And while you're reading this, as you most probably are (if you aren't reading this, you wont know I said that you are), please remember that a review means all the cake and biscuits in the world (excluding Mycroft's secret hoard, which I have definitely not mentioned), so if you feel kind, or helpful, or murderous, please give me a review, because it only takes seconds and it really helps.**

The Doctor was spinning around the main console like he was doing some work of ancient ballroom dance. He was flicking switches and pirouetting and waving his hands about to the sound of Wa-CHAL-ookin-AT, an orchestra from 42st century earth who wrote music not too di-similar to The Clash. This made the Doctor look even more strange and alien, it was defiantly not the sort of music you would try to Waltz to, although the Doctor was now putting that statement to the test.

"So, where would you like to go next, Clara?"

Clara shrugged, she wasn't about to try and shout over the sound of the strange yet normal sounding music.

"I could take you anywhere. The lost moon of Poosh, the end of the Earth, you could meet one of my old friends from the Land of Nod, they're very nice…"

Clara shook her head at the strange places the Doctor mentioned.

"Talking about old friends, how would you like to meet the greatest detectives ever? Apart from me, of course."

"You, a detective? Since when?"

"Since yesterday, in fact! Shall we go?"

"Sure, why not!"

The Doctor grinned, and pulled the red lever while trying to twirl, which ended in complete failure. He stood up again, straitened his bow-tie, and pulled the lever like a normal person, while pretending nothing had happened. Clara giggled; the Doctor was one of the weirdest people she had ever met.

Sherlock rushed down the stairs, which was not normally something he did, especially if it was because someone rang the doorbell. He had left John reading a newspaper in the living room, and hoped he wouldn't come down to see what the fuss was all about. He, of course, knew what all the fuss was about, and that was why he was rushing down the stairs like he had a case. Which might not be entirely untrue.

He reached the door, took a moment to compose himself and put on a look of casual disinterest. He found it was best not to get the person outside exited, although that was rarely possible, even for him. He hoped he wouldn't be too difficult, and opened the door.

The Doctor beamed down at the tall man who stood in the doorway. He had dark, neat curls, sharp, high cheekbones, and was wearing a purple shirt and black trousers. He looked mildly bored, like he already knew what was going to happen, which was extremely unlikely (although not impossible, one tries not to underestimates Sherlock Holmes, especially on a case). He looked _briefly_ over Clara, although the Doctor knew it was anything but, before settling his eyes on him, the Doctor, drinking in his every detail, to be stored away until later, no doubt.

"Doctor."

"Sherly!"

"Sherlock." Sherlock corrected, almost automatically.

"Sorry, Sherlock. How _are_ you, just thought I'd introduce you to a friend of mine, she's _ever _so pleased to meet you. Sherlock, this is Clara, Clara, this is Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock was only half listening, the first look he took of Clara screamed _annoying_. He could hear John walking on the landing, starting to walk down the stairs, most likely coming to greet their new customers, or so_ he_ thought.

Sherlock tilted his head slightly to the side, and smiled. "Oh, that's nice."

Sherlock then shut the door on them, quickly, ignoring the look on the faces of the Doctor and Clara. He heard John coming down the stairs quickly, he was already on his way down, but he had heard part of the conversation and was undoubtedly coming down now to scowl Sherlock for his rudeness. Sherlock quickly turned around and leaned his elbow on the wall, blocking the door.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?" John asked, confused by his flatmates casual leaning on the wall, like he did it all the time, which he didn't. He wasn't sure if Sherlock had ever leaned on a wall with his elbow and had then propped his head on the hand that was attached to that elbow. It was very disconcerting.

Sherlock smiled sweetly at him. "Oh, you know, just casually leaning here."

John frowned. Why was he leaning on the wall in front of the door? John tried to get past Sherlock, but Sherlock seemed set on being awkwardly in his way.

"Sherlock, I need to get past."

"Why?"

"I need to talk to the people outside that you just offended."

"Huh? I didn't offend anyone."

"You shut the door in their face. That generally offends people."

John made to go past Sherlock again, but Sherlock did not move.

"Sherlock! I need to apologise to those people, seeing as you're not going to."

"No, you don't need to apologise to them. They'll be fine."

"Sherlock! Let me pass!"

"No."

"Sherlock! I need to see those people!"

"No you don't."

Sherlock was being annoying now. He wouldn't move, and he wouldn't let John apologise to those poor people outside.

"Sherlock! Why won't you let me through to see those people?"

"Because you really don't need to see those people."

"Yes I do!"

"Trust me John, you don't."

"Why not?"

"Because… you don't."

John sighed, Sherlock was not being very clear. Was he trying to hide something? Was there someone he didn't want John to meet? Why?

"Sherlock. Just let me-"

"No! Go upstairs and I'll make you tea."

"What?_ You_, make_ me _tea?"

"Yes. If you go upstairs."

John sighed, it obviously wasn't worth trying to get past Sherlock just to apologise to some strangers that had probably left by now. Sherlock must be _really_ convinced it was a bad idea if he was willing to _actually_ make tea for him. He decided to just go upstairs. He noticed that Sherlock wasn't following, but was still maintaining that position of leaning against the wall with his elbow, watching him walk up the stairs, but decided not to question it. At least, not now.

When Sherlock was satisfied that John had gone upstairs, he turned and opened the door again. The Doctor was still standing there, looking ever so slightly confused by what had happened, but not feeling offended or insulted like John had thought. He noticed that Clara wasn't there with them, and presumed that she had gone to the TARDIS. Good.

"What was all that about?"

"I didn't want John to meet you."

"What? Why ever not?"

Sherlock looked away from the Doctor, back at the door that he had just closed to his flat.

"Reasons." He said, elaborating no further. The Doctor thought it was curious that Sherlock didn't go into more depth, the Doctor was the only person that Sherlock really trusted, the only person Sherlock told everything, apart from John. They were old friends, to say the least.

"Care to expand on that?"

Sherlock ignored his question, instead opting to look into the middle distance. The Doctor took the hint, and decided to leave it. He obviously had a good reason to keep it a secret, and it was not one he was willing to share at that moment.

"So, would you like to meet Clara, or would I be right to guess that you don't like her?"

"Correct, as ever, Doctor." Sherlock said, the hint of a smile teasing the edges of his lips. "How did you know, and could you explain why? Or is that too much of a burden on your alien brain?"

The Doctor chuckled. Sherlock had always found the Doctor's biology interesting, and he had to be careful that Sherlock didn't take a DNA sample, as he always tried to do. Sherlock enjoyed watching the Doctor trying to deduce things, in a smug sort of way.

"We-e-ell… the way you looked at her briefly when you first opened the door tells me a lot. If you wanted to impress her, you would have told her her life story, but you didn't, so that tells me you don't want to impress her, or at least, you don't want her asking questions. The fact that you paid her no more attention once you deduced her tells me that you wanted to seem as unfriendly as possible, as antisocial as possible, so that she is deterred from small-talk; wise move, she does a lot of that, frankly it can get a bit annoying, but don't tell her I said that, I will never hear the end of it. Also, you gave me that look before closing the door."

"Good. Wait, what look?"

"You know, _the look_."

"No, I don't know _the look_."

"Yes you do, the 'who the hell is this get rid of it' look."

"Oh, that look."

"Didn't you know you were doing it?" the Doctor asked sceptically, raising an eyebrow.

"No."

"You should be more careful about hiding your emotions."

"Well _sorry_ for not being _completely unreadable_, I have been quite busy lately!" Sherlock snapped.

"Alright, alright, I'm just saying, be careful."

"Fine. Point made." Said Sherlock sulkily, putting the discussion to an end. Sherlock glanced around quickly, checking for passers-by, or Clara, but they were alone, as far as he could tell. He leaned towards the Doctor and whispered in his ear with curiosity in his eyes.

"Why are you here? Have you got a case for me?"

"No sorry, just a social call."

Sherlock shook his head slightly, closing his eyes.

"No, no it isn't. You don't do social calls, especially with me."

"Well, I do now."

"No you don't." Sherlock frowned slightly, and smiled in a way the Doctor hadn't seen before.

"No one gives me a social call. No one."

The Doctor closed his eyes for a second, composed his thoughts, sighed, and looked at Sherlock again.

"Fine, it's not a social call. Didn't think I could hide it from you for long."

"So why are you here?"

"Investigating."

"Who?"

"You."


End file.
